When the Lights Call: The Outtakes
by pixie4eva
Summary: Told from various points of view, these outtakes shed light on missing moments from WtLC. AH


**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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**Outtake One: **Rosalie and Emmett have a strange relationship. But where did it all start? More importantly, where did it all go wrong?

**~*Revised*~**

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**Beauty and the Chef**

**Rosalie POV –** _April 2010_

There are things in this world that cannot be explained. Why I agreed to do this show is one of those things. Even the name is kind of… tacky: _Who Wants to Marry a Celebrity?_ Or is it _I Want to Marry a Celebrity_? Ugh, that's not important right now; it's bad either way. For the umpteenth time today alone, I ask myself why the hell I agreed to do this. I don't need the publicity, and I don't need the attention. No, I, Rosalie Hale, have enough of that. As if to prove my point, I can feel eyes following my every movement as I walk with confidence toward the conference room. My makeup is done to perfection, I have an outfit on that's to die for with high heels to match, and not a hair is out of place. And although I'm indoors, my sunglasses put the finishing touch on the look. Which brings me back to my question: Why am I doing this? Sure, Alice said it would be fun, and she can be very convincing. However, I would prefer not to admit that she talked me into this. I am a strong, independent woman.

_Alice Brandon should thank her lucky stars that I'm not alone in this,_ I think, walking into the room and greeting everyone with a simple nod. Sitting down between my agent and publicist, my lawyer is sitting to the latter's right, I take off my sunglasses and place them on the table.

Max, the show's producer, smiles widely at me. "Rosalie! It's wonderful to see you."

"I prefer Ms. Hale," I reply coolly. Max may think he's charming, but he's far from it. I sigh inwardly as he laughs uncomfortably. I don't want to spend the whole day in this room, and no one is getting to the reason why I'm here—to pick a guy I have never met before to live with me for possibly the next _three months_! Wow, doing this show suddenly seems even stranger.

"How about we get started?" Max asks, trying to hide his discomfort. I may or may not be known for cutting someone down to size with a single stare.

The first video starts, and I struggle not to yawn by the end. This might sound rude, but the guy's voice is the same as his appearance: plain, boring, and monotonous. The only interesting thing about him is probably his name—John Doe. I'm not kidding. That's actually his name.

The second video is of someone with tattoos almost everywhere the eye can see and a weird hairdo. Though that is not the deal the breaker; that honor goes to the last scene where he snaps and smashes a guitar on the floor. I think he has anger management issues, which will not work well with my own temper.

Approximately two hours and a whole lot of skipping forward later, we're busy with the "M's." There have been a few good-looking guys, but I'm looking for more than that. If I'm going to be sharing my house with someone, then I want it to be with a man that really catches my attention. Then it happens. A video that looks quite professional comes on the screen, starting with the words: _An Arnie Burns Production._

A guy in a chef's jacket is behind a counter, chopping ingredients at lightning speed. His broad shoulders are accentuated by the jacket, and he is built like a football or rugby player. When he smiles as he looks up, I know that he is one of the hottest guys I have ever seen. It's a challenge not to act like a love struck teenager. Oh yeah, I want him and he hasn't even said a word. My decision firms when the scene changes, and this time he appears to be in a living room.

"_Hi, my name is Emmett McCarty. I work as a sous-chef at one of the most well-known restaurants in Manhattan. Why should you give me a chance?" He laughs. "Well, Rosalie, if you're watching this, I'm sure most men just see you as a gorgeous actress/ model. But those men—or rather, _boys_—aren't man enough for you. Give me a shot, I may just surprise you."_

He's either very confident or simply arrogant. I honestly don't know whether I'm turned on or irritated. Involuntarily, a fantasy of me pushing that chef's jacket off his broad shoulders enters my mind. Turned on it is, then.

"I want him." _No, wait, I'm not buying a car. _"I mean, he'll do," I add, hoping that I sound nonchalant. Though inwardly, I'm smiling. Something tells me that Mr. Emmett McCarty is right; he _is _going to surprise me.

~oOo~

_May 2010_

Four words: he is _not_ interested. Those four little words cause me to rush over to the cabinet and grab a bottle of vodka, leaving a glass and drinking straight from the bottle instead. Only then am I able to form a response.

"Come again?" With one hand holding my phone to my ear, the other lifts the bottle to my mouth for a second much needed sip.

"He… Mr. McCarty isn't interested in doing the show," Rachel repeats hesitantly. She's an assistant that went along with Jay, the host, and the camera crew to New York.

"How… Why the hell did he enter then?" I ask, my jaw clenched. What is wrong with this guy? I am Rosalie Hale, voted Sexiest Woman Alive for the past two years in a row! And he doesn't want to live with me?

_Who the hell does he think he is?_ I exclaim internally.

"Well, um…" Clearly, Rachel doesn't want to have this conversation with me. "Apparently, his roommate entered Mr. McCarty as a prank. His roommate recorded the audition tape while they joked around after hearing about the show."

"Arnie Burns," I whisper venomously, remembering the name at the beginning of the video.

"Yeah, that's him. As he so eagerly told us, he wants to be a director," Rachel responds, sounding very uncomfortable. "How do you know his name?"

"It was at the beginning of the video."

"Oh yeah, now I remember."

"So what now?" I ask impatiently, feeling mortified and angry like never before in my life.

"Jay just spoke to Max," Rachel starts.

_Oh, I'm sure Max is enjoying my humiliation, _I think, my grip tightening around the bottle.

"Max still feels like the two of you would be a good match on screen, so we're trying to…" Rachel pauses nervously. "We're trying to convince Mr. McCarty."

_Convince him? CONVINCE him? To live with _me_? That arrogant asshole! _I take another generous swig from the bottle. "Why can't I just pick someone else?"

"There's no time to do that and repeat the background check on someone else." Rachel sounds cautious as she continues. "I'll call you back once we have come to an agreement."

As the call ends, I start pacing back and forth while drinking occasionally from the bottle. Everything feels like such a mess. The show, my home… just everything. Plastic is covering a lot of the furniture and floors, because the house is currently being renovated. I could've rented another house for the meantime, or even temporarily moved into a hotel, but no, I just had to be stubborn by deciding to tough it out. Seconds later, when the phone finally rings, I don't watch where I'm going and my foot catches on a piece of plastic on the floor. Fortunately, I only stumble and avoid meeting the floor face to face. However, the incident only fuels my temper.

"And what has _Mr. McCarty _decided?" I practically spit his name out.

"He has agreed to do it. He's getting ready to leave with us as we speak," Rachel hurriedly responds. "Max spoke to him on the phone and said that the network would press charges against his roommate if he didn't agree."

_Of course, she just _has_ to tell me that they had to blackmail the guy to come live with me,_ I think sarcastically.

"I'm glad that everything worked out," I reply, saying the words as if I can't be happier. Though, I'm seething with anger on the inside. "Let me know when your flight will be landing, so I'll know when to expect him."

Rachel assures me that she will before also telling me that none of this will be airing. The fact that Mr. McCarty didn't enter himself will be kept a secret; the network isn't sure how the public will react if they were to find out. What if they insist that someone else should be picked? That would mean money wasted. Thus, I'm at least spared _that _humiliation of everyone knowing he doesn't actually _want _to be on the show. Just before ending the call, Rachel feels it's necessary to tell me that they're redoing the scene where they tell him that he's on the show. As if I need to be reminded that he wasn't interested at first.

Later, after getting out of the shower, I walk to my lingerie section and put on a black lace two piece that's sheer here and there. Then I go stand in front of the floor length mirror in my closet. If anyone could see me now, I would deny it, but I turn right and left, examining myself from head to toe. Though I haven't met him yet, Emmett McCarty has managed to get under my skin with those four words. Not that I'll admit it out loud, of course.

Irritated that I'm letting him affect me this way, I turn away from the mirror and put on my robe. My movements as I tie the knot speak louder than words about my aggravation. Just as I'm about to leave my closet, something catches my eye in my peripheral vision. Walking closer, I grab the red dress and hold it up by its hanger. A wicked grin plays around the corners of my mouth as I stare at it. Emmett McCarty is going to find out that he humiliated the wrong woman.

~oOo~

The following morning, Rachel calls me to let me know that they'll be arriving tonight. I spend the whole day preparing for Mr. McCarty's demise. Getting my hair done, nails, waxing, everything. I'm looking forward to slowly torturing him with regret. McCarty is going to stare, but boy, oh boy… He is _not_ going to touch.

The red dress has thin straps, stops just above my knees, and it's tight in all the right places. It also shows enough cleavage without cheapening the look. As for the heels, I hope their five inches added to my own height will intimidate him. I'm not sure how tall he is, but I can just imagine looking down at him, making him squirm.

Because a camera crew is waiting for me downstairs to film my reaction, I wait until the last possible minute before I descend to the ground floor. I'm just in time to hear the car pull up. Waiting at the bottom of the stairs, I raise my chin slightly as I hear voices outside.

_Game on_, I say inwardly, narrowing my eyes slightly.

However, I have neglected to include the impressive sight of Emmett in real life to the equation. The guy is tall, very tall. At least 6'5". There goes one part of my plan, shortly followed by another; his face looks just like I remember it from the video. I've been hoping my mind exaggerated how hot he is. Instead, I'm sad to admit that my memory hasn't done his appearance justice. If I were to allow myself, I would be giggling like a teenager. To worsen matters, our eyes find each other and he approaches with a smile on his face.

Getting myself under control, I step closer to greet him. "Hi, Emmett, it's nice to meet you. I'm Ro—"

"Whoa… Absolutely stunning!" he interrupts, causing me to smile with satisfaction.

Brushing my hair back, a smug grin takes up residence on my face. "Thank y—" I break off as he walks past me. Turning around to see where he's going, I'm stunned to see Emmett heading straight toward the newly renovated kitchen that's visible from where I'm standing. I follow him, too speechless to do anything else. His hand glides over the countertop while he takes in the kitchen.

"Now _this _is a kitchen." He turns around slowly, his hand remaining on the smooth surface of the kitchen island. "Granite countertops, mahogany cabinets, and stainless steel handles. Sleek and modern without feeling cold."

I stare at him incredulously. Let me get this straight, I spend the whole day getting ready to knock this guy of his feet, and my _kitchen _outdoes me! There can only be one explanation: my radar may not be going off, but Emmett has to be gay. No one has ever overlooked me before like I'm a piece of furniture. And the cameras are recording every movement, making my humiliation that much worse.

Suddenly, Emmett seems to realize that he has been ignoring me in favor of my kitchen. He walks toward me, holding out his hand. "Sorry, it's just that your kitchen is simply perfection."

_Again with my kitchen! Maybe he should 'marry' it instead of me, _I think sarcastically, trying to ignore the fact that I sound jealous of a _kitchen_. Taking his hand, my forced smile freezes on my face the moment that we touch. It feels like something just clicks into place and the chemistry is there. Then Emmett has to go and ruin it by speaking.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Rosie. I'm sure you know by now, but I'm Emmett."

"It's Rosalie, or Rose to my friends. Never _Rosie_," I say through gritted teeth, extracting my hand from his. He just shrugs in response, not looking the least bit bothered.

Glancing around, Emmett turns back toward me and smiles widely. "So are we sharing a room, or am I sleeping on the couch?"

I can feel a headache coming on. Turning toward the stairs, I gesture at him to follow me. "As you can see, the house is currently being renovated. The room you'll be staying in doesn't have a bath, so I hope you prefer a shower."

"Actually, I do. More room for movement, if you know what I mean."

Pausing halfway up the staircase, I turn around slowly and look at him. Emmett wiggles his eyebrows in response. Taking him in from head to toe, I'm forced to admit to myself that he is gorgeous. His muscles are emphasized by his t-shirt, and the sight has an effect on me. However, when I meet his gaze again, I arch an eyebrow and manage to successfully hide my true feelings. My cold stare is enough to cause his smile to falter momentarily. Turning forward again, I hold my head high as I climb the rest of the stairs.

Sure, I'm conflicted about whether I should to rip Emmett or his clothes to shreds, but I'm not going to let my hormones control me. He has embarrassed me _twice_, and I'm not going to let it go. I'll show Emmett McCarty that no one walks over me.

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**Author's Note:**

Thank you for reading this outtake! I hope you liked it. Please _review _and tell me what you think. :) I want to thank BellaNessCullen for listening and sharing her thoughts. I've been thinking about writing outtakes from WtLC for a while now, especially this one. It shows how Emmett and Rosalie met and what causes them to act the way they do. Rosalie's pride got hurt, and it takes more than a pretty face to impress Emmett. Where will these two end up? Stick around because I am planning on finishing WtLC. :)

Like the summary says, these outtakes will be told from various PoV's. Please let me know if there's a particular outtake that you would like to read. The only catch is that none of the outtakes will give away a plot point that hasn't be revealed yet. Apart from that, I hope to write many more outtakes like this one. :)

Twitter: StarlightPixie **~*~ **ADifferentForest: PixieRose **~*~ **Twilighted: RoseInTheTwilight

Until next time,

Pixie

PS: _WtLC: The Outtakes _is rated M to be on the safe side. Who knows where these outtakes will lead?


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